


not broken, just bent

by kay_emm_gee



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-02-01 00:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12693618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: In which Nesta learns she might not be as alone as she thought.{ prompt: 'are you jealous?' }





	not broken, just bent

This had a been a horrible idea. Nesta clenched her jaw and slumped lower in her seat. She was the only one left at the small table at the back of Rita’s. Her sisters had deserted her: Feyre dancing with Rhys, Elain getting some air with Azriel.  _They_ were the ones who had begged her to come, against her better judgement. Nesta knew she would end up alone, as she did more and more frequently these days. To everyone’s relief, Elain was bit by bit blooming into her former sunny self--drawn out of her shell by the  _shadowsinger_  of all people--which also meant bit by bit Nesta found herself alone. Not that it was a problem for her. Feyre’s new family as too much to handle sometimes, and Nesta enjoyed stealing moments of solitude without their jesting and laughter to needle her. Even so, lately it had been less of a choice on her part and more of how things just were.

A burst of bright laughter cut across her thoughts. Glancing towards the bar, she saw Mor with her head tipped back, small frame shaking with amusement. Her sun-golden hair cascaded down her bare back, and her glittered crimson outfit winked and sparkled even in the dim light of the bar. Cassian was next to her, leaning in close with his forearms on the bar counter and smirking. He said something else, a small comment along with an eyebrow wiggle, and it set Mor off again. At his triumph of humor, Cassian’s smirk turned into a full-blown grin, wide and unrestrained in its happiness. 

Nesta looked away from the brightness the two of them were radiating. The collar of her neck-high dress seemed suddenly tight, and she tugged at it. It didn’t help much. Swallowing tightly, she pressed her palm against her flaming cheeks. Her breaths came faster as her stomach, and irritation at her reaction twisted in her chest. Gritting her teeth, Nesta forced her breathing back into a normal rhythm and took a small sip of water from her glass to settle her stomach. Then she stood suddenly and quietly walked out of Rita’s without a second glance back.

* * *

Her breathing was harsh and labored as she paused halfway up the steps to the House of Wind. It had been a while since she’d had to climb back home, what with becoming comfortable with Illyrian flights to the top, and even her training did not make the ascent any easier. Her heels had come off dozens of steps ago, and now dangled in her hands. The ache in her soles and the burn in her calves, however, was preferable to the pangs she had felt back at Rita’s.

Nesta gazed out at the stars dotting the pitch-black sky above the bright, winking Velaris skyline for one last moment before resuming her climb. She had not taken more than two steps, however, when she heard a familiar ( _damn her, for knowing the rhythm of his flight_ ) rush of wings behind her.

“If you wanted endurance training tonight,” Cassian said with amusement, “I could’ve helped with that.”

Nesta stiffened, not sure if he was teasing about her previous refusal to train or making an innuendo. Probably both, knowing him, and it made her more annoyed. Spine ramrod straight, she began climbing again as she retorted, “We are training tomorrow, and besides, you looked busy.”

“Never too busy for you, Nesta,” he teased.

She snorted derisively. Her steps didn’t falter, and she was almost a flight above him before she heard the  _whoosh_  and then saw Cassian touch down on the next landing. 

“If you wanted to go home, you should’ve told one of us,” he said with more seriousness.

Nesta glared at him, lips pursed as she swallowed down sharp, honest words that she was desperate for him not to hear. As he raised his eyebrows in challenge, however, her control slipped. “Like I said, you looked busy.”

He didn’t say anything, and she looked away, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her throat was tight once more, and she slid her hand up until her palm pressed over the center of her collarbone. She resisted tugging on her collar again, resenting that tonight the full coverage of her dress felt like a cage instead of armor to protect her like it usually did. As her skin prickled with awareness of Cassian scrutinizing her, Nesta felt like screaming in frustration--at him, at Mor, at her sisters, at herself.

A sudden huff of breath from Cassian stopped her. “Are you  _jealous_?”

“No,” she sniped, gaze flying back to him like thrown daggers. Anger and something else blossomed in her chest, scalding her from the inside out. He just stared at her, no mocking smile or eyes glimmering with amusement, which somehow made her even more furious. She  _wasn’t_ jealous, not like that, and she needed to get away from him before--

“Nesta.”

She refused to look at him, just tried to go around him and keep climbing. He blocked her path with his body but kept his hands by his sides, as if he could sense that one touch would set her off. Nesta knew if she tried again, he would let her go. He would let her retreat into solitude to fume and rage, but even knowing that, she found herself unable to move.

Cassian seemed to recognize the concession. “There is nothing between me and Mor, not anymore and never again.”

“I know,” Nesta snapped. “Feyre told me. Amren told me. Rhys told me. I. Know.”

“And now  _I’m_  telling you. You have to know, nothing is between us but friendship. I swear it.”

Nesta flinched, her mouth drying out and filling with a bitter taste. That was the problem. Mor and Cassian were friends, just as Mor was friends with Rhys and Feyre, just as Feyre was friends with Azriel and Amren, just as Azriel was friends with Elain and Cassian. Over centuries or just a few years, they all shared trust and laughter, loyalty and sorrows. Not one of them was whole, but they were all healing, and their wounds closed faster because of one another. Yet here Nesta was, alone, still damaged and unable to smile like Cassian, laugh like Mor, or love like her sisters. She  _was_ jealous, but not in the way Cassian thought, and it ate at her like a slow and deadly poison. 

“Nesta,” Cassian murmured, a plea and a warning all at once. 

The softness with which he said her name was enough to almost break her. So, gathering her courage, she looked up at the warrior who had been a thorn in her side since coming to Velaris, who had been her shield and sword on the battlefield, who had rarely left her thoughts since the moment they met. Something furious blazed in his eyes, but she didn’t shy way from it, because it lit something warm inside her, a flame that drove away the loneliness. Slowly, Cassian raised his hands until they were framing her face. He stepped closer and placed a soft, tentative kiss on her forehead.

“I’m here,” he whispered, pulling her closer. “I’m here, for you.” 

Nesta couldn’t help but rest her palms on his chest, fingers digging into his shirt. Her eyes began to burn with tears, and she curled into him, fear and fury raging inside her at the same time.

His arms wrapped around her tightly and he promised, “You are not alone, Nesta.” 

Her throat closed up, too tight for a rising sob to escape. She just buried further into Cassian’s embrace, letting him once again, for just a moment, be her shield, this time not against death but against her secret fears. And just for a moment, for a breath, for a heartbeat--Nesta let herself feel like she belonged, to this place, to these people, to  _him._ She stood there and let herself believe that he was hers, and somehow, even when she pulled back and walked away--tears drying and held high--she still believed: he was hers, and maybe, just maybe, she could be brave enough to let herself be his too. 


End file.
